


Vanilla Buttercream

by aurorae



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: And nasté w/ food, BH has zero boundaries, Blackmail, Flug goes against his better judgment in the name of Science, In a way lol it’s BH this is pretty typical, M/M, Manipulation, asylum AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 10:36:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurorae/pseuds/aurorae
Summary: Asylum AU. Flug would rather tend to his patients than spend his birthday at home.





	Vanilla Buttercream

**Author's Note:**

> didnt think a series of cn shorts would get me hooked enough to come up w something but what can i say i love garbage
> 
> [(c)](https://zwagyzonk.tumblr.com) for their rad af asylum au #blessup

The facility took advantage of the opportunity to celebrate a staff member’s birthday. The atmosphere was usually heavy after a long day handling several unstable patients, especially when most of their occupants, although restrained, were prone to unexpected bursts of hostility. Birthdays became a fleeting reprieve from the stress of the working environment. Flug’s coworkers visibly relaxed: their tense, upright shoulders gradually drooped as they mingled, their clenched fists eased around their plastic cups, and as for Flug himself, he could feel his blood pressure stabilizing for the first time in a long while.

His coworkers politely nodded their head his way, some offered him a friendly pat on the back, and others wished him a happy birthday. None of them really talked to him though, because when it came down to it, birthdays became an excuse to celebrate a moment’s break. It’s never about the celebrant. Despite their generic blessings, it was another day in the year Flug felt his loneliness envelop his mood.

Flug shifted his weight restlessly from foot to foot. He didn’t want to spend another birthday at home in his quiet apartment. He didn’t want to sit alone at his dinner table again, nibbling on a cupcake he bought for himself, with the television chattering in the background to fill the silence with companionable noise. He nearly bought himself a small cake too but decided against it. There was no one else to share it with and he only had one plate in his cabinets.

He tried to cheer himself up this year, and while his social skills still required constant work, he chatted with some of his coworkers. The conversations never held on long enough, so he weaved through the crowd, fished a cupcake from the box on the table, and made a strategic retreat to the halls.

* * *

Many of his colleagues extended an invitation to tackle on his patients as a courtesy, but Flug declined. He joked with one of the behavioral specialists if that included Patient 2511920. Her casual smile twitched downwards at the corners, her body visibly stiffened, and her pupils dilated with fear. He didn’t make that joke again and promptly excused himself.

He could sympathize with her and with everyone else. To an extent, at least, because Patient 2511920 favored him out of all of the other staff members, which means his schedule was teeming with 2511920’s appointments. He spared an anxious glance at the clock, his heart thrummed in his chest, and he closed his eyes briefly to even out his breathing. The appointment was nearing and Flug was dreading it.

Flug preoccupied himself by visiting another patient. 5.0.5 wasn’t scheduled with him today, but he could write it off as an hourly check-up. Flug snatched the bear’s charts from the wall file and greeted the blue creature with wide, open arms. While it defied protocol, 5.0.5’s behavioral training was progressing well and he was certain that within a few months, 5.0.5 would get his chance at deinstitutionalization. 5.0.5 also gave the best hugs, so it was reason enough to disregard protocol.

5.0.5’s wrists were held together by thick metal cuffs, but to the best of his limited ability, he provided the doctor a lopsided hug. Flug sat alongside the bear, talked about his day, and presented the cupcake he hid in his pocket. Sure, the icing was smeared, but 5.0.5’s yappy babbling reassured him that it didn’t seem to be an issue.

* * *

Oh god, he panicked, _what was he doing_.

Flug wasn’t sure why he grabbed another cupcake, but sure enough, he did. He had Patient 2511920’s charts tucked against his chest in a vice grip, the plastic clipboard crackled under his grip as security disengaged the locks to the room.

Security filed inside, assessed the room, and provided Flug the “All-Clear” for him to begin his session.

“I’ll-I’ll take it from here,” he assured the security staff, but his tone failed to match the command. “Dis-Dismissed.”

The door slammed shut and the locks were re-engaged with a faint ping from the outside.

“Greetings, Doctor. You took your time.”

Steeling his nerves, Flug turned on the balls of his converse and lifted his focus from the charts to his patient.

“Sorry, I, uh, would’ve been here sooner but I was with another patient,” Flug explained, which wasn’t a complete lie. There was never a nice way of saying _I actively avoid coming here as much as I can because you scare me half to death_. Drumming his fingers against his patient's charts, Flug asked, “How are you feeling, Black Hat?”

After a pregnant pause, Flug amended his question. “How are you feeling _today?_ ”

Black Hat smiled with his teeth completely bared. “As opposed to every other day I am asked the same, blasted question?” He quirked his head to the side, amusedly assessing his doctor’s fingers.

Flug ceased the drumming, which caused Black Hat’s restrained shoulders to judder with sardonic laughter. “Just fine, but would you be open to a suggestion? It would certainly improve my compliancy for any procedures done today.”

Bemusedly, Flug blinked. He lowered the charts and plucked the pen attached to the clipboard. “I can’t exactly make any promises for sure, but…”

Flug’s pen hovered over Black Hat’s progress notes. He suppressed the urge to heave a heavy sigh of relief: as long as the request fell under the scope of legal ethics, and _legal boundaries,_ he’d be making life easier for the next physician. It’s less paperwork when someone walks out of Patient 2511920’s room unscathed; it’s less paperwork _and_ complaints _Flug_ has to deal with. He’s pretty sure Human Resources blocked his extension number by now.

Black Hat parted his legs, and then inclined his head to the spot in front of him. “Sit with me.”

“What.” The pen fell from his hand. “I, um, I-I don’t—I can’t…Black Hat, protocol states-“ Flug croaked, desperation lacing his voice.

“An incredible shame it would be then,” Black Hat began serenely, “when the following physician waltzes in here. The human neck is a terribly fragile thing.”

And there it is, the rough start to every session he’s ever had. “Okay, okay!” Flug floundered, his hands shaking with terror. He wanted to press the bridge of his nose behind his paper bag, to fight back the creeping exasperation, but professionally maintained his cool enough to advance forward in slow, wary steps. He hovered over his patient briefly, wished himself luck, and situated himself where Black Hat demanded.

Flug set the charts aside to fix Black Hat a tired look.

Black Hat snickered, then pulled Flug forward with his thighs to bridge the distance between them, much to the doctor’s meek protests. Black Hat had the intention to respond to his complaints with a snide remark, but a distinct smell of something sickeningly sweet permeated the normally sterile air.

Black Hat sniffed. “What is that stench?”

Flug owlishly studied him, made a small noise of realization, and shuffled to pluck a rather mushed cupcake from his pocket. “It looked…better before. We still have a couple left, and I know we can’t give them to patients, but it’d be a waste,” —and it begins, Flug realized, _he’s babbling_ — “and I wanted to save a couple. Sharing’s caring-“

“Doctor.”

“But it’s all crushed and I think that’s some lint from my coat? That’s, wow, that’s really…I’m sorry, I should really throw this away.”

“Doctor.”

“I’ll get you a new one! No, wait, I don’t even know if you like cupcakes? Not everyone likes cupcakes, or sweets, aha, I just—I really should’ve just followed protocol. I usually do, I mean, I do, _I do!_ ”

“ _Flug_ ,” Black Hat hissed, but there was no trace of malice or ill-intent, rather just a break in patience. The brief flicker of anger vanished, and just as calmly and humored as before, Black Hat inched closer. “What is the occasion?”

Flug bashfully lowered his head. “It’s…it's my birthday,” he mumbled, and distractingly picked at the baking cup’s foil peeling on one side. There was an itchy feeling at the back of his neck, so he was certain he sounded as awkward as he felt. “They threw a staff party for me.”

Black Hat hummed and Flug continued, “It’s not much of a party? We just—they wanted a break and a party’s a good excuse as any. I don’t…I don’t mind, it’s sorta nice. Company’s nice.”

Catching himself before he crossed any more boundaries than he already has, he digressed. “I don’t know if you want this. I brought this for you, but it’s kinda…” Gross, pretty flattened, the list —oh, a paperclip was lodged in the buttercream. He was looking for that. Of course it’s in the cupcake now, go figure with this train wreck of an appointment—went on, and if anything, Flug wanted to toss it and hide in his office for the rest of his shift.

“So you brought me a pitiful excuse for a pastry that you tucked away in your coat.”

Flug set his hands down solemnly and stammered an apology under his breath.

Black Hat fought off a grin; he cherished every viable moment to torment the good doctor. “Consider me flattered, Flug, however.”

Flug raised his gaze. “I can get you a new one,” he suggested and made a premature attempt to stand, but froze rigidly as Black Hat caged him with his legs. His knees dug into Flug’s back in subtle warning.

“Doctor, you should know better than to leave early,” he chided playfully, but Flug did not miss the dangerous glow fading from his patient’s iris. “Now, how could I help myself if I cannot move my arms?” Black Hat explained, demonstrating his point by pressing his elbows against the straightjacket, which stretched the material by the force but remained locked around his body.

“Oh.” Admittedly, Flug didn’t think this far ahead. Or about this entire interaction to begin with. The doctor did his best to pluck the specks of lint and the paperclip, but most of the cream smeared all over his gloves. He didn’t want to look like a mess—his mouth already does enough damage—so Flug set the cupcake aside to remove his gloves.

The bruising, nicks, and bite marks were fading, much to his relief. He couldn’t condone the use of muzzles, regardless of safety concerns. It’s too dehumanizing, even if patients like Black Hat often caused the staff to question whether he even has an ounce of humanity. The bite marks 5.0.5 gave him prior to his behavioral training faded into dull, brown specks on his skin.

Flug fetched the cupcake and brought it close to Black Hat’s mouth, but Black Hat leveled him a churlish look. “This,” he said mildly, “is not what I meant.”

“Oh,” Flug parroted. “I’m not sure what you mean? You know I can’t have your restraints off if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Feed it to me,” Black Hat purred. He locked his ankles together to ensure Flug took the hint to _stay put_.

Fidgeting, Flug withdrew the cupcake. “Black Hat, you know that I can’t do that. Th-That’s inappropriate and I can land into major trouble if my supervisor caught wind, and-”

“My _compliancy_ ,” Black Hat reminded him, “is a rare commodity for your staff.”

Gulping the lump in his throat, Flug parted the cupcake in half. He could feel his heart beating hard and loudly in his ears, his bated breath constricting his chest at the mere idea of drawing his hand close to Black Hat’s serrated fangs.

He couldn’t fend off the quaking in his wrists; he was sure his hands were starting to get sweaty too. He brought the chunk forward, unsteady at first because he would later deny the squeak that escaped him when his patient pried his mouth open.

Flug waited. Nothing was happening.  

Black Hat was watching him, _but doing nothing_ , and Flug wanted to scream because the mortification was driving him mad.

Just as Flug nearly returned his arm to his sides, Black Hat’s long, forked tongue uncoiled like a serpent, and slithered in loops over the tip of his doctor’s buttercream slathered thumb. Black Hat shifted, warm puffs of air brushed against Flug’s frigid hand, and his tongue tugged Flug’s wrist closer in small increments toward his jaw. Flug made a motion to wretch himself free, but cowed under his patient’s sharp, concentrated gaze under his half-lidded eye.

Black Hat’s tongue nudged Flug’s fingers into his mouth. The doctor didn’t move, he _refused_ to move, because if he deviated from his patient’s demands, he could very well leave out of the room without a hand. He’d get to file for disability, and maybe Human Resources would finally pick up, but _at what cost._ He wants his hand; it’s a decent hand. He needs two hands to pet 5.0.5 and it’s his dominant hand of all things _and this is probably the worst birthday ever oh god oh god oh god._

His panic had already seeped through his body, but he snapped out of it when he heard some distinct panting.

Flug blinked.

Oh. _Oh._

Protocol didn’t prepare him for this. He’d later convince himself in the dead of night that he was compelled by his Curiosity For Knowledge because he’s never seen Black Hat flushed. Carefully, Flug plunged his fingers deeper and tilted his wrist in order to crane his patient’s neck. Hungrily, Black Hat lapped the remains of the pastry held together by Flug’s clenched fingers, and the quiet, padded room elevated the volume of the slick, wet noises.

Black Hat leaned back and Flug’s fingers slid out of his mouth with a loud _pop_. A thin rivulet of saliva trickled from his mouth, and finally, Black Hat parted his legs to liberate Flug from his grip.

Regarding him with a wide, roguish smile, Black Hat said, “Much obliged.”

Security knocked on the door. It was the end of the session and Flug backed off immediately. He scurried and fumbled backward, the other half of the cupcake tumbled from his hand as he tried to regain his footing, and more importantly, his composure. He thinks he’s hyperventilating if the paper bag on his head contracting and expanding was any indication.

He scrambled to snatch Black Hat’s charts, his gloves, and the clipboard’s pen before clearing his throat to inform security they can enter to escort him. When the locks disengaged, and security greeted him, Flug was more than ready to leave.

“Before you go.”

His shoulders tensed, and after a moment of deliberating whether he could pretend that he didn't hear his patient, Flug glanced at Black Hat over his shoulder.

Black Hat licked his lips slowly. “It has been a _pleasure_ spending this occasion with you, Doctor.”

It was as close to a “Happy Birthday” as he was going to get. Flug eventually nodded and thanked him so quietly that it was almost inaudible. He departed with security, the door closing behind them, and all Black Hat could hear is the chime of the locks reengaging.

The discarded cupcake was left near his foot. A shame Flug didn’t serve him the rest, but he reaped his rewards plenty today. Black Hat rested his head against the padding and waited patiently, _eagerly_ , for his next appointment.

**Author's Note:**

> BH's patient number translates to BEAST i wouldve went w/ MONSTER but thats hella numbers. anyway i wouldve posted this tomm but i got a date w/ friends and vodka and whats sure to be a hangover ill half regret happy early vday you animals


End file.
